


A Chip Off The Old Man's Shoulder

by RedactedReader



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Babysitter Billy Hargrove, Billy Hargrove & Maxine "Max" Mayfield Bonding, Billy Hargrove Is Bad at Feelings, Billy Hargrove Redemption, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Gay Billy Hargrove, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mention pasted Billy/oc, Neil Hargrove Being an Asshole, Neil Hargrove is His Own Warning, Slow Burn, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:35:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25845166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedactedReader/pseuds/RedactedReader
Summary: “...you know what happens when you disobey me…” like father like son, the words were venom in the air, “...I break things...”“You break things...”Billy broke things too. He broke people. The brutalized teen across the lunch room was proof to Billy what he’d become. There was a difference between being an asshole and being his father. The realization set Billy’s stomach lurching.ooooBilly didn't want to follow the path he was on anymore. He didn't want to end up like his father; drunk, angry and always ready to put his fist into a weaker person's face.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove & Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Billy Hargrove & Neil Hargrove, Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 7
Kudos: 223





	A Chip Off The Old Man's Shoulder

**Author's Note:**

> First time getting around to writing for Stranger Things.  
> Picks up shortly after end of season 2.

Steve Harrington's pretty little face had been the canvas for all of Billy’s misplaced rage and self-loathing. He had thought nothing, slamming his fist over and over into the other boy, as the storm inside him drowned out all around. He had been in such a blinded rage that by time Harrington was slumped against the rickety wooden steps, and he’d thrown the door open to begin the next assault against the damn Sinclair kid, he hadn’t realized how easily his father’s own snarled words slipped from his lips. 

“...you know what happens when you disobey me…” like father like son, the words were venom in the air, “...I break things...”

Neil Hargrove first spoke those words when he ripped apart every one of his eight year old son’s books. He said it again a month later when he broke the boy’s second hand clarinet over his knee. And a month after that when he finally broke the boy’s hand. The lesson was repeated and repeated, but never learned. 

Billy had offered to teach that lesson a few days ago, as he slammed a teenage boy into a shelf. He’d held him there, snarling like a caged beast at such a smaller prey. His fists had been ready to dish out the same cruel punishment he had bestowed upon Harrington.

In the heat of the night he had justified his actions. Max had brought it down on them when she’d ran off, leaving him to bite the bullet for her disobedience. When she had hid behind some near grown man in a cabin disappeared in the woods. When she continued to associate with a boy that his father wouldn’t hesitate to hang from a tree if he knew their skin had touched. Max never faced the consequences for her actions and Billy was justified in finally bringing that retribution. 

Five days later when the fight had completely left him and he was forced to see the aftermath of his rage walking into lunch with the slightest bit of a limp, did Billy lose that justification. 

Steve’s face was seven shades of hell worn over. One eye was still swollen, a setting scar crawled down from his hair line, his fingers on his left hand were splinted together and there was a delay when he raised his left foot. He grimaced as he sat beside that Wheeler girl and the older Byers boy. Billy’s handiwork was all over Steve and it was striking how much his artwork resembled his father’s.

Billy locked his gaze on his own hand, three fingers tapped together after his father had ground the heel of his boot into them. He hadn’t returned with Max that night. Instead stumbling in still partially drugged and with no knowledge of where his sister or his car was. “I gave you one simple task...” the bruises around their eyes matched, “… you know what happens when you disobey me...” 

“You break things...”

Billy broke things too. He broke people. The brutalized teen across the lunch room was proof to Billy what he’d become. There was a difference between being an asshole and being his father. The realization set Billy’s stomach lurching. He left school that day, not bothering with the rest of his classes.

O-----O 

The last of his cigarettes burned between his fingers as he watched the water below. It was a good distance down to the ridged water below. He used to cliff dive, back in California. He’d never taken a plunge from this height but he was sure it would hurt on impact.

“Hop says when you hit the water it shatters you.”

Billy’s icy blue gaze lifted, finding the source of the voice. Steve stood next to his open car door, the car still running. One hand was gripping the handle, the other seemed to be reaching inside. Some crappy song – most likely by the Police by the sound of it – tinted the air from his radio. He hesitated, watching Billy like he was some untamed animal. 

“Is that so?” Dirty blond brows faded into the mess of matching curls. Billy let the smoke billow from his lips before forcing a ridged smirk onto them.

“Ya. So I hope you aren’t planning on jumping. Because I have enough that keeps me up, I don’t want to see your mangled corpse as well.”

Billy chuckled. He ashed his cigarette against the gravel as it burnt out the last few leaves. “I didn’t know you cared so much. King Steve, the savior for assholes and monsters alike.”

Something crossed Steve’s face. He turned his car off, the music cutting off with it. After a moment, he jammed the keys in his pocket and slammed his car door closed. He moved closer to Billy, but kept enough distance should the other strike. “You’re not a monster. I’ve seen real monster, and you ain’t it.”

There was a strange ting to the teen’s voice. A hardness that shouldn’t exist for some polo wearing rich boy. “An asshole, Hargrove, I’ll grant you that. You’re the biggest fucking asshole I’ve ever meet and if you ever go after my kids again...”

The sneer on Billy’s lips was wicked, “we’ve already established who would win in our fights.” 

The brown in Steve’s gaze darkened like overturned soil. His voice was cold and coarse. “I don’t need to win next time. I just need to make sure you die with me.”

Silence over set the quarry. Billy longed for another cigarette as the evening air brushed over his bare arms. He rose to his feet, brushing gravel off his jeans “Jesus, Harrington. What are you even doing with those kids anyway? You got some kind of harem? Diddling little boys in the woods? Is that why you brought my sister out there? Change things up a bit?”

“Fuck you!” Harrington took a step closer. His jaw was tight and his hands were clasped in tight fists. Billy knew from experience that his broken fingers must hurt from the pressure. Something shattered the air between them as Steve jumped forward. His hands wrapped into Billy’s collar as he dragged him down an inch to level their gaze. “If you ever suggest something like that again I will not hesitate to bring that bat down over your balls myself!”

Billy had wrapped his hands around the one’s holding onto him. He intended to rip himself free from the hold. To beat that stupid little face in. To smother the fire in those eyes once and for all. The bandages around Harrington’s fingers were pressed under the ones of his own. That alone caused Billy to falter.

Steve shoved him away a moment later. His gaze was hard as he drug a hand through his hair. “You know what… Fuck it. And fuck you. I just came out here for a drink I didn’t sign up for dealing with you and your sadistic bullshit,” he stepped forward, jabbing a finger towards him, “so you can take that shit and shove it up your ass! Why do you have to be such a fucking asshole? Hu? You’re a piece of shit Hargrove. You know that?”

Steve started stomping off, continuing to mutter under his breath.

He was nearly to his car when Billy’s voice stopped him. “You’re right.”

Steve turned, raising a brow.

A groan escaped Billy’s lips as he shoved his hands deep in his front pockets. “You’re right. I’m an asshole. A piece of shit. A chip right off my old man’s shoulder. You’re not the only one well aware of that fact.”

Billy ran a hand through his tangled hair. “And I’m sorry, alright. I shouldn’t have beat your face in. It was a shit move on my part.” 

The distance between them was closed by Steve slower this time. He racked his gaze across Billy, lingering on his bandaged fingers and the welt over his eye. 

“I know I got a few hits in...” Steve seemed to consider each word he said, “… but I know I didn’t get that lucky...”

“You said you came to drink.” Billy cut off that line of thought with a harsh glare. “What’s say a truce? You pop open whatever bottle you brought and agree not to ask anymore questions and I promise not to bash your face in again.”

“What do you have to offer?”

Billy grinned, “there’s a cashed cigarette over by the ledge. I’m sure if you relight it you’ll get a hit or two.”

He thought the truce was being declined when Steve threw open his car door. He climbed in, but instead of driving off, leaned into the passenger seat to grab a six pack of beer. With a softened glare, he shoved a beer into his chest. “Shut up and drink, Hargrove.”

O-----O 

Billy had spent the Saturday afternoon out with friends, smoking behind the local gas station. He had dosed himself with the nauseating floral perfume he kept in the glove compartment to cover the smell of weed on him. The paranoia of being caught was for nothing, as Neil’s car was gone when he rolled up home about shortly before five o'clock. He parked the car half on the curb, half on the grass and made his way inside. Max’s bedroom light was on. He paid it no mind, turning the lock to the front door and slipping in. The place was cold and smelled like something burnt. A few muttered curses came from the lite kitchen. 

Billy didn’t look at his step-sister as he crossed the small kitchen and threw open the fridge. There wasn’t much in there in the ways of food. A half drunk gallon of milk, some leftovers that were beginning to turn and a block of cheese. And beer. Quite a lot of beer. Snagging one, he downed half of it before leveling his gaze onto Max. 

She glared at him from her place at the stove. Her spoon was scrapping against some blacken mess. Billy moved over towards her, wrinkling his nose at the smell. “How the fuck you burn mac and cheese?”

“Shut up Billy,” Max snarled back. She rammed her elbow into him, catching a bruise. 

Billy fought the urge to rub to sore spot. Fought a greater urge to smack the little brat. “Where’s dad and Susan?”

Max turned away from him. She took the pot and threw the whole thing in the trash before stomping over the slam the fridge door open. With a grumble, Billy withdrew the pot and began trying to scrape out the mess. They only had so many of these, it wouldn’t do to pitch them.

“I asked a question shitbird.”

The fridge shook as Max threw the door closed. “They went to dinner. Some friend of Neil’s birthday or something. I don’t know. There’s no food in this goddamn house.”

Chucking the last of the burnt meal into the trash, Billy cocked a grin down at it. “Well there would have been had you not burnt it.”

Max screamed. Gave one of those screams that only a teen could produce. It grated on his ears. “Fuck you Billy! Just, fuck you!”

She stormed down the hall, slamming her bedroom door closed. The urge came back. To rip that door off his hinges. To scream at her for the sheer level of disrespect she threw in his face. Snagging a cigarette from the emergency draw, he lit it and braced his hands against the counter and took a breath. And another. And as many breathes as it took to calm himself down. 

“You break things,” Billy whispered under his breath. No. Not this time. 

He put out his cigarette, left the kitchen, and drug his feet until he stood in front of her bedroom door. There was silence inside. Billy wrapped his knuckles against the wood.

“Go away.”

“Shitbird,” he spoke slowly, “are you hungry or not?”

“I’ll starve!” 

Billy had decided not even twenty four hours ago that he was going to be better. That he was going to be more patient. And the little shit was just so close to him tossing that resolve out the window. “Listen, Max. Can you just come to the door please, I’d rather not have to keep screaming through it.”

The door was ripped open. Max stood there, glaring him down behind a curtain of frizzled red hair. “You have ten seconds before I slam this door in your face.”

“A peace offering? There’s a new Chinese place that opened up. We can get take out and camp the car somewhere and eat.” A smile crossed his lips at an old memory. “I remember how much you used to like doing that.”

The smile graced Max’s face for a second before it vanished. “That was before you became an asshole.”

“Goddamn it, Max.” He pressed his fist against her door frame. “I am trying here. Really trying.”

“Trying what?”

“To not be such a piece of shit.” He snarled those words at her, which in hindsight probably wasn’t the best approach. “I am trying to make it right to you, all the shit I’ve done. The shit I’ve put you through. So can you get off my back for three seconds, so I can apologize and we can get dinner without you being a bitch about it?”

Oh, he fucked this up. He needed to learn how to apologize without insulting the person. 

Max merely looked him over, thinking. After a moment she leaned her weight on her back leg, and crossed her arms. The smirk on her lips lite up her face. “I want an entire order of egg rolls to myself.”

Billy chuckled. “Those your only terms?”

Max grabbed her jacket and leveled him with a dangerously innocent smile. “The beginning of them. We can discuss this truce over food.”

She pushed passed him – not bothering to jam her elbows in as she normally would have. Billy took that as a start, flicking her light off before following behind.

O-----O 

“Stop messing with your hair, you look fine, Max.” Billy kept his eyes on the road while he spoke.

Max stopped fiddling with her long red locks. She instead started messing with the sleeve of her dress. She was biting her lip, and kept checking herself out in the visor's little mirror. It was unnerving seeing the normally so confident teenager, suddenly so nervous about her appearance. 

They pulled into the school parking lot, but Billy didn’t go up to the drop off section. Instead he parked in a spot far in the back corner. Max looked at him funny. “You making me walk all the way up there?”

“No,” Billy stated. He turned towards her, clicking open the glove compartment. Pulling out the tiny bottle of blue liquid, he handed it to her. “Your mom’s shitty perfume has already worn off. Give yourself a few spurts of this and you’ll smell like flowery shit all night. And stop worrying over how you look. You look beautiful tonight Max.”

Max’s face lit into a smile. “You think so? You don’t think I look stupid?”

“You always look a little stupid Shitbird,” - that earned him a soft punch to the shoulder - “don’t hit me. I’m trying to be nice.”

“This is you being nice?”

“Yes.”

“What is wrong with you, Billy?” There wasn’t the usual anger to her voice, but a slight curl to her lips. They’d gotten better in the week and something since he’d apologized over Chinese. 

Billy reached out, sliding a lose bunch of hair back behind her shoulder. “You look good Max. You’re going to have boys lines up around the gym to dance with you. Or one boy in specific.”

Max turned away, her shoulder’s going stiff. Billy had explained he initial reservation against the boy she liked, and she’d understood where he was coming from, but that didn’t mean she liked it. Didn’t mean she had to suffer losing someone she cared about because of his father’s views. “Don’t start about Lucas. Please, Billy.”

“I don’t mean it like that,” Billy spoke slowly. “I already told you, I’m not going after the kid. But if he does anything funny tonight, if any boy does anything you don’t like, you make sure you punch them right in the face. Hard. And then you tell me, and I’ll kill ‘em.”

Max chuckled. “Ya, ya. Now take me to the door, before I’m late.”

Billy rolled through the parking lot, getting closer to the front doors. He caught eyes on the sheriff’s police truck, a small girl climbing out of the passenger seat before dashing off into the building. Steve’s car was pulling out as Dustin waved goodbye. Billy pulled up, turning to remind Max on what time he’d be there to pick her up.

He was caught off guard by her body collided with his. Her arms went around him quickly, before she pulled away. She looked surprised to have actually hugged him. “Um… thanks for taking me Billy.”

“Whatever. I’ll be back in like three hours. If you’re not out when I get here...”

“You’ll leave me, I know, I know.”

Max was out the car, rushing into the building. Billy set a cigarette into his lips and drove out the parking lot. He didn’t go far, finding some quiet little dinner that was half empty. He ordered his coffee and a burger with fries. Popping the book onto the table, he killed the time before he had to go get Max. 

When he’s food was long gone, the book coming to a close, and the clock getting close to ten, Billy made his way back to the middle school. He found Steve’s car parked near a lamp post almost immediately. There was still another twenty minutes before the dance was set to end. Pulling up beside the car, Billy gave a slight wave to the other boy. Steve turned his music down, and returned the wave.

“I’ve got some smokes,” Billy shouted across to him. “You wanna smoke some till the little shits are done?”

Steve looked around the lot, before cutting his car off and climbing out. Billy cut off his own car, and the pair sat on the hood of it. “I’ve got some weed, you wanna few hits on it?”

Steve leaned back onto the car hood. He seemed so relaxed next to Billy. Their biweekly drinking at the quarry had really loosened up their relationship. “Sure. You got the good stuff?”

“Of course” Billy was offended by that question. He pulled out his cigarette pack, taking the tightly rolled joint out from it. Setting it between his teeth, he lit the end. With a strong inhale, he let the smoke fill into his lungs. Exhaling a cloud of it, Billy passed off the joint.

Steve repeated the motion, closing his eyes as the marijuana entered his system. “It’s not bad. Not as good as the stuff my mom has, but still good.”

Billy took the joint back. “You’re mom smokes with you?”

“No. She smokes. Says it helps with her creative flow or whatever. I’ve just sometimes slip a joint or two from her purse. She never notices.”

“Who would have known under all those polo's, Steve Harrington was a little delinquent.” 

Steve’s face crumbled a little as he took the joint. “Before you showed up here, I was a real asshole.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“You’ve spent time with Tommy and Carol. I’m sure they’ve mentioned that we used to be friends.”

Billy nodded. He remembered how often Tommy would complain about Steve when Billy had first moved here. It had been irritating and one of the many reason’s Billy had gladly stopped talking to the idiot. “That boy has a real obsession with you. Said you went off on them before going on some holier than tho act.”

“I became a real dick around them. And they only encouraged it. It wasn’t until Jonathon beat my ass and I saw how much my actions had hurt Nancy that I realized I was a real prick. I crossed a lot of lines. And when they wanted to keep going with it, when they couldn’t see that we were the assholes…”

“Jonathon Byers? Jonathon Byers beat your ass? You really need to learn how to fight.” Billy was laughing fully.

Steve reached over, shoving Billy slightly. “Shut up. Why am I not surprised that’s the part you caught onto.”

Billy stopped laughing. He took a long hit on the joint, eyeing the middle school. He could see the gym where the dance was being held. Light music danced out of it. He could catch brief glimpses of Max’s alarmingly red hair through the windows as she danced around with her friends. “How’d you do it? How’d you change that easily?”

The air around them grew chilly. Steve ran a hand through his hair, looking off at the night stars. “It wasn’t easy. There were times, especially after Nancy and I broke up and she got with Jonathon, that I wanted to go back to being that prick. Wanted to say fuck it all and go back to what was easy. But then Dustin… the kid showed up needing help. Those kids needed me and I might have been a shitty boyfriend, a shitty person before, but I was a damn good babysitter. And I realized that if I wanted to be a better person, I had to do it because I wanted to be. I had to want to be better for myself, not for other people.”

Billy took a long hit, letting the smoke completely fill his lungs. The cloud of smoke he blew blocked out the stars above. He handed the joint off.

“Max says you’ve been nicer in the last few weeks. And you’ve been far less of a dick on our quarry meetups than you were before. People can see that you’re trying Billy. It’s progress. And I’m proud of how much you’ve changed.”

Billy smirked, taking the joint from between Steve’s lips. He put it between his own lips, smirking around it. “You going soft on me there, pretty boy.”

“Shut up, asshole. Was just trying to be nice.”

“I know the two of you aren’t smoking pot in a middle school parking lot?”

The pair turned, catching sight of the burly mass that was Hopper. He was sporting a faded plaid button up, hanging open over a gray t-shirt. He was less intimidating out of the police uniform, but still enough so that Steve’s eyes widened. Billy smirked, blowing a small cloud.

“No, sir, Hopper sir.” Steve croaked out. 

Billy cocked a brow. “What’s it to you?”

Hopper looked unimpressed. He pinched the bridge of his nose, before leveling a firm stare. “Put out the joint Hargrove. You’re about to be driving your sister home.”

Billy did so, smothering the burning end against the pavement. It was nearly finished anyway, he’d relight and finish it tomorrow. Hoping back onto the car hood, he sent a smirk back at the officer. “You here keeping the peace?”

“Picking up my daughter.” Hopper responded. 

“El’s here?” Steve said.

“Ya. She wanted to go with Mike.” The way he said that boy’s name said everything about his opinions on his daughter dating. The school doors opened, children piling out and looking for their parent’s car. The three men watched the crowd, waving towards their charges as they clambered out. Hugs were given, and the three they came for broke off towards them.

The chief’s daughter threw herself at him, hugging the man’s chest tightly as she rambled about getting to dance with Mike. Hopper’s brow tightened every the boy’s name was said, but he kept a light smile on his lips. He was pretty clear how much he loved the little girl. 

Dustin was rambling about some girl’s who blew him off but how after Nancy danced with him, they all looked upset. And how this girl in his class had challenged him to a dance off, and how she’d been impressed by his robot dance. 

Max was standing beside her brother, a smile on her lips and a blush heavily set on her cheeks. Billy reached out, ruffling the girl’s hair. “You have fun tonight?”

“I did.” Max’s blush only grew. God, Billy thought, the girl was terrible at hiding her excitement. They bid their goodbye’s, climbing into the Camero and heading off towards home. They got there ten minutes shy of curfew, and Neil was already in bed. Susan was sitting up, reading in the living room. She had smiled at Max and asked how her night had gone as Max sluggishly wandered off towards bed. Billy had tossed his jacket on the back of the chair, and made his way towards his own room.

He just barely caught Susan thanking him for taking Max to and from the dance.

O-----O 

There was a polo wearing idiot perched on the top of his car hood when Billy finally dragged himself from the school building. He pulled a pack of smokes from his pocket, and lite one between his teeth. The faded blue backpack he sported hung limply from one shoulder. He sauntered towards his Camero, casting a smirk at the brunette waiting for him. “You here to ask me out Harrington?” 

Steve rolled his eyes, sliding off the car hood. “I wanted to ask you a favor.”

Billy threw his bag into the backseat. He turned a confused gaze towards the older boy. “A favor. Didn’t realize we were that friendly yet.”

Steve shrugged. He had the audacity to look smug as he leaned against Billy’s car. “You’re a dick, and I’m starting to realize that that’s just how you are. But like I told you the other day, you’ve started to change. You’re not that son of a bitch anymore. Could probably be friends at some point if you keep sharing that weed.”

Billy leaned his weight against his car, not bothering to look at Harrington. “So this favor….”

“I heard you’re in a bunch of smart classes.”

“The fuck you hear that from?”

Steve rolled his eyes onto him. “We go to the same school, it’s pretty easy to figure out your classes. Plus, you’ve got AP Lit and AP Physics and Calc 2 with Nancy, so she told me.” 

“Fuckin’ Wheeler.”

“Calc 2? That bad boy status of yours might be in jeopardy should people realize you’re a nerd.” 

“I’m not a nerd,” Billy snarled. “It’s not my fault your little backwater town is behind where everyone else education is.”

That merely got a chuckle from Harrington. It was unnerving how quickly the boy had turned from being terrified of him to so relaxed. There might be some brain damage. 

“So this favor….” Harrington spoke slowly. He leaned back further against the car, running a hand through those bouncy chocolate curls of his. For a moment, the afternoon sun bounced against that jawline and Billy felt the sudden urge to rack his tongue against it. That stopped him short. It had been quite some time since he’d experienced those emotions. Not since… 

“I’ve not understood a thing about this book and Max mentioned you have like a whole collection of science fiction at home and said you’d read this one, so I figured if you could lean a hand so I don’t fail this class?” Harrington was in his face, looking at him expectantly. 

Billy took a step back. The cigarette balanced between his teeth. He shoved his hands into his jean pockets, and looked off down the road. He needed to go get Max pretty soon. Glancing back, he felt that gut dropping feeling again. Had anyone ever told Harrington he had the biggest doe eyes out there? How was he supposed to say no to those? God, Billy thought to himself. He’d gone soft.

Pulling the cigarette from his lips, he flicked it to the curb. “I’m free tomorrow night. About six?”

Harrington’s face lit up. “Your house or mine?”

“Yours.” Billy answered, not wanting to note how quickly he responded. “I know where you live.”

“Okay,” Harrington nodded. He continued to smile like a fucking idiot. “I’ll see you tomorrow than.”

Billy didn’t give a reply beyond a nod. After a moment of digging through his pocket for his keys, he threw the car door open. Harrington back up, allowing Billy to peel out of the parking lot, heading to the middle school.

O----O 

Saturday afternoon rolled around a few days later. He had been at Harrington’s for hours last night. It was supposed to be a quick session, merely going over the political ramifications of Orwell’s novel and the implications of his critique of government in regards to modern politics. Billy had had a lot of critiques and things to say, and Steve had been far too willing to order another pizza and take notes from Billy’s irritated rambling. It had been nice, Billy was wont to admit, to just spend time in a quiet place, without the need to keep up the King Billy persona. 

Or it had been nice until he slipped into the house about midnight, to Neil’s awaiting anger and fist. The bruise around his jawline – “I clocked myself with a dumbbell” - stung with a faint pain. 

He ignored it, and the way it continued to sting as he blew the last bit of smoke from his joint out the open window. It was his last one, fucking Tommy failing to supply him before the school week ended. He snuffed it out, making sure to stash it in the glove compartment. 

Thunder rolled around the darkening sky. He began to roll his window up, not wanting to head home quite so soon, but figuring he’d need to find something to do to kill some time other than just camping out in the back of a grocery store parking lot with a cashed out joint. Moving to start his car, he stopped at the sight a short ways off. 

One of Max’s friend, the little Byers boy surrounded by two unfamiliar and taller children. He watched one of the boys grab the younger’s bike and kick his foot through the spindles. Throwing open the car door, Billy hadn’t full thought into his actions – knowing he’d turn around and pass a blind eye if he gave himself that out – before making his way over. 

“That was my bike!” Byers groaned, his voice scratching at such a volume. He reached for it back, but was pushed off. “Come on, give it back.”

“Does the little queer want his bike back?” The boys began to cackle. “Why don’t you take it.”

Byers made a grab for it. He was pushed back once more. The kid in front of him, a large boy with a round face and oily black hair sneered down at him. “Come on Byers. Take it from me. Stop being such a fag-”

Byers swung on the boy. The action caused Billy to stop a few feet away. He had heard a great deal about the scrawny little kid, who was soft spoken and polite to a fault. He wasn’t the fighting type. That was pretty clear when the other boy didn’t even flinch at the assault. Instead he snarled, slamming his fist into Byers’ eye. The bigger boy moved to attack Byers again, but Billy grabbed the fist and drug him back. The mess of boys around them took a step back.

“Now what’s going on here,” Billy spat out. He let the boy go, shoving him to the ground. He tossed an amused grin back at Byers who was nursing an already bruised hand. “You’re Jonathon’s brother?”

“Ya.” The kid responded. “Will.”

“Will,” Billy tasted the name on his tongue. A scrawny little mess of a boy, with clothes that just didn’t seem to fit him properly and hair a tussled mess. William. The humor was not lost to him.

“Stay out of this.” The greasy haired boy was back on his feet. He looked ready to fight Billy. “This is between me and the queer.”

“Now it’s between you and me.”

The boy only glared deeper. “What’s this to you? You some fag too?”

Billy drew a cigarette from his pocket. He lit it, making a big show of taking a puff. He balanced his weight onto his back leg, looking over the greasy haired twerp was a sick grin. He blew the smoke in the boy’s face causing him to cough. “Look, I have no problem beating the shit out of some prepubescent little fucker if you really feel like you need to fight.”

The boy seemed to think better of it, motioning for his friends to go. Billy grinned, snaking a finger under the boy’s collar and holding him in place. “I find you put your hands on this kid again, or any kid my step-sister is friends with, and I will personally take you to the river and drown you. Am I understood.”

Greasy boy nodded once, his face still set in a hard frown. Billy smirked, standing straight. “And I suggest you remove that word from you vocab. Got me?”

Again the boy nodded. It only took a second after being released for the kid and his friends to dash off, muttering swears under their breaths and tossing insults back towards them. Billy let it go. For now. He instead turned to Will who was holding his bike, frowning down at the bent tire. He turned his gaze onto Billy; clear nervousness gripped his frame.

“Thanks,” Will whispered. “For that.”

“Whatever,” Billy tossed the cigarette. “Let me see your hand.”

Will hesitated for a moment before leaning the bike against a poll and showing Billy the bruised and busted knuckles. The sight set a shrill whistle to his lips. “First time you’ve punched someone, kid?”

“Kind of,” Will answered. He drew his hand back.

“I’ve got a medical supply box in my car. Let’s get you cleaned up.” He took the boy’s bike, carrying it back over to his car. Will trailed behind him, clearly confused. He propped the busted frame against his car and drug out a small white box. “Sit in the passengers seat.”

Will did so, merely watching as Billy grabbed out the bandage and disinfectant. He didn’t give the kid any warning before soaking the broken skin. Will cried out, but didn’t remove his hand from Billy’s.

“It’ll sting,” Billy chuckled, drying off the skin.

Will dropped his gaze. “I’ve had worst.”

“Listen kid, next time you punch someone, keep your thumb out.”

“What?”

Billy lifted the boy’s hand. “The bruising on your thumb. If you keep it tucked in wrong, you can break it. So keep your thumb on the outside, and don’t lock up your wrist when you punch. It’ll help keep you from getting hurt. And when you swing, go for the jaw if you can. You hit it hard enough, you send the bastard down. And don’t be afraid for a few cheap shots. The back of the head, a kidney shot, even a punch to the stomach can end a fight real quick.”

Will looked at the bruise on Billy’s neck. “You’re Max’s brother, right?”

“Step,” Billy said. He ripped open a bandage, working on covering some of the open wounds. “She says a lot of good things about me?”

“No.” Will answered honestly. “Say’s you’re kind of an ass.”

Billy chuckled at that. “Well, she’s not wrong.”

“She also says you’re doing better. And thank by the way. For saving me.”

“Don’t get all mushy kid.” Billy tossed the first aid kit into his back seat. Thunder rolled round them. A few drops of rain touched his neck. “It’s about to pour and its getting late. You want a lift back home? The bike of yours isn’t going to make it far.”

“You don’t mind?” Will asked.

Billy didn’t reply. He stood, grabbing a hold of the bent bike and carefully maneuvering it into his back seat. By time he got around to the drivers side, Will had already closed his door and put a seat belt on. Billy started the car up, The Misfits blaring though his speakers. He turned it down slightly, and pushed tail out of the parking lot. It was quiet between the pair, neither really knowing how to speak. Billy kept an eye on Will beside him, absentmindedly running his hand over his bandaged one. 

After a cycle of three songs, Billy broke the silence. “I was a scrawny ass kid when I was your age.”

“You were?”

“Sure as hell was. Was scrawny, had a mess of curls that never stayed in place, and was an ugly ass kid. Used to get the shit beat out of me a lot.”

Will looked at him hopefully. “How’d you stop it?”

I didn’t, Billy wanted to say, not really. His shoulder tingled from the recent bruises. He shook it off, gripping the steering wheel tighter. “I bulked up. Started working out. Learned how to fight. Learned which fights I could win, and which fights I would lose. How to avoid those kind of fight if I could, and how to go down swinging if I couldn’t. I made sure that anyone looking to fight, knew I wasn’t going down without knocking out a few teeth on the way. I made sure I wasn’t a target. Got rid of any reason someone would think I’d be an easy target.”

Will seemed to think over what he said. “What if I can’t? Get rid of the reason?”

“The queer talk?” Billy raised his brow. They turned on a side road, keeping track of directions as they drove along. The rain was slowing down. Will bite his lip. Oh God, Billy thought once more. It really was like looking at himself at that age. “Listen kid, if you aren’t, than don’t let it get to you. Rumors fly around and fizzle out. They’ll find something else to keep their fascination soon enough. And if you are...”

Judging by the way Will sunk into himself, Billy was sure it was true. “Well if you are, then fuck ‘em anyway. You are the way you are and don’t for a second, think you have to change that cause some asshole has a problem with it. If anyone has a problem with it, or gives you shit… well you know how to throw a punch now.”

Will smiled at him as they pulled into his drive way. Jonathon and a small women Billy assumed was their mother was on the porch. As was that hulking police chief. Billy whispered a curse as he pulled up to the house. The trio were on their feet, watching Billy’s car carefully. Will climbed out of it, waving to his family. Billy pushed open his door and moved to get the bike from the back. By time he wrestled it from his seat, he caught the end of their conversation.

“… and Billy gave me a ride since my bike’s broke.”

“Oh my baby,” the mother’s Byers whimpered. She drew the boy close to her chest. The real mothering type, Billy through with a growl. Her gaze landed on Billy. It was harsh for a moment – clearly in the knowledge of what he had done last time he was here – before it softened. “Thank you Billy. For bringing him home.”

“Its whatever.” He handed the bike to Jonathon so his free hands could be shoved into his pockets. His gaze drifted onto the chief who was watching him with a firm frown. “I’m going now.”

Will broke from his mother, and raised a fist up towards Billy. “Thank again.”

Billy bumped his fist against the younger boys. “No problem little man.” 

Mother Byers lead Will into the house. Jonathon had already disappeared with the bike. Billy turned to go but was stopped by the police chief. He didn’t flinch when the man’s bulking hand set on his shoulder. Or at least, he was telling himself he didn’t flinch. The chief looked him in the eyes, searching for something. He either found what he was looking for or he didn’t. Billy didn’t know. But the man cleared his throat and took a step back.

“Stay out of trouble, Hargrove.”

Billy smirked, climbing into his front seat. He leaned into his passenger seat to look out the window. “Fat fucking chance on that one chief.” 

His car revved to a started. The heavy metal rocking from his radio picked up a new refrain as he pulled from the driveway and started home.

\---o

“The movie is far better than the book!” 

“Watch your mouth you little shit!” Billy glared at the teen across the table from him. 

The mop of black curls framed an irritated face. The Henderson kid returned the glare. “Jack Nicholson was amazing in it.”

Billy leaned back in his chair. He grabbed a chip, tossing it into his mouth. He’d shown up to Harrington's that night after brides of snacks to help the guy with his newest English homework and had come face to face with the toothless wonder Steve had seemingly adopted. “While I’ll grant you that, it doesn’t change the fact. No matter how good the acting, its a shitty adaptation. Nicholson is already clearly off his ass by time they get there. There’s no losing his sanity because he’s already fucking crazy.”

Dustin ran his hands through his hair, his lisp growing more prominent with his anger. Steve was moving in the background, pulling the mini tacos and cheese sticks from the oven, not wanting to intervene in what was now a good twenty minute argument between the boys. “Because its not about him going crazy. It’s about him tying to keep what little sanity he has.”

“Normally I’d be up for a fucked up film like that, but that’s not what the story was meant to be.”

“But he made it better.” Dustin argued. Steve sat the hot food between them; they didn’t look up before grabbing from the tray. Steve rolled his eyes, throwing his homework and book onto the table and digging into the pile of chips. “The scene with the blood in the elevator. The twins. He made it scary. Added all the cool bits. The books had what… a hose and some hedges?”

Steve waved a hand, getting their attention. He waved the collection of Poe’s Works in Billy’s face. “Okay you two. Can we call an end to this? I’ve not read the book nor seen the movie so I haven’t followed anything. But Billy, you are here to help me with my English homework. So let us discuss that please. I need to know two similarities between Poe’s ‘The Black Cat’ and ‘The Tell Tale Heart’ and the significance behind them.”

“Did you even read them?” Billy asked, a brow raised. 

Steve tossed the book onto the table. “I did not. I started trying to read, but just didn’t get it. Reading is not my strong point. Please tell me what happened.”

“One has a crazy guy gouging out a cat’s eyes and hanging the cat. He also beats his wife when he goes insane.” Dustin answered through a mouthful of food. Steve looked taken back. 

Billy smirked at the face being given. “The other has a guy going insane ‘cause his roommate sleeps with a creepy eye open and he kills him, and stashes his heart under the floorboards.”

“Jesus Christ! What is wrong with this class that they keep making me read this fucked up shit? And you two just read this for fun?” Both boys at the table shrugged, digging into the dwindling bowl of chips. Steve merely shook his head, grabbing a pen. “So some obsession with eyes and some horrible violence. Alright. Next. I need an interpretation of ‘Silence – A Fable’. I tried to read this one but like it made no sense.”

This simple question sent Billy and Dustin into an argument that Steve probably might have followed if he bothered to read past the first three sentences of the work. He just sat there, watching the way his new friend and surrogate son argued about something dealing with rain. 

At some point, Steve sat back and just watched. It was strange, watching the hurricane that was Billy Hargrove channeling his focus into literary debate. Months ago when the teen had stumbled around that party, shirt half buttoned and alcohol heavy on his lips, Steve wouldn’t have been surprised if someone told him the new Keg King was illiterate. But no. Turned out the guy was quite the intelligent. 

“He’s the devil.”

“You’re the devil!” 

Steve waved the conversation back. He hadn’t been paying enough attention to know how they got onto this tangent, but he needed to bring the conversation back. It took a few moments to calm the two down and get an actual interpretation of the short story. The rest of the assignment was easier to get through, the pair providing answers Steve would never had gotten from the work. 

An hour later, and all of Steve’s homework done, Billy was driving Dustin home. Steve had been slipping his shoes on to take the kid, when Billy had waved him off, offering to do so. He was going out anyway, he shrugged it off, don’t make such a fucking deal about it Steve. But Steve had smiled at him and Billy felt at that moment that he’d do anything to have that smile directed at him.

Dustin hated all of Billy’s music. He had flashed the tape he’d swiped from Steve’s house and shoved it into the player. Duran Duran had the audacity to touch his speakers. It had taken all of Billy’s willpower to not throw the kid out into the night. He’d somehow managed to not murder the child in the ten or so minutes it took to drive the kid home. At least Dustin didn’t feel the need to talk to him during the ride.

Pulling up to the nice little home, Billy glared at the child. “Get out of my car, Henderson.”

The teen turned to Billy, grinning widely. There was a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Are you friends with Steve?”

Billy rolled his eyes. “I’m just helping the idiot out with his homework. Now get out.”

Dustin continued to grin. “I think Steve’s good for you. You seem less homicidal. Still a dick, but less crazy.”

“Thanks...” Billy drew out the word, rolling his eyes. 

“But if you hurt him, or Max, I’ll kick you ass.”

Billy only chuckled. “I’m shacking in my boots, toothless.”

Dustin glared, throwing the door open. He climbed out, and glared at Billy. “My teeth are coming in, asshole.”

The kid closed the door and turned. After a moment, Billy sighed, leaning over and rolling down the passenger window. “Henderson!”

The boy turned, raising a brow. Billy sighed knowing what he needed to say. “I’m sorry about that night. About scaring you kids. But I’m not going to hurt Steve. You don’t have to worry.”

Dustin’s gaze softened. He still looked unsure, but was smiling widely nonetheless. “Alright, asshole. Drive safe.”

Dustin turned, making his ways into the house. Billy waited until the kid was inside, and the porch light was turned off, before driving back down the road. He got home that night, and both Neil and Susan were already in bed. Max tossed a knowingly look from the crack in her doorway, earning her a halfhearted finger before Billy threw himself into bed. The smile stayed on his lips as he feel asleep that night. 

O-----O 

They were fifteen minutes late getting home. It was Max’s fault. She was plowing her way through her arcade game, beating her own personal best by countless points. She hadn’t left when Billy arrived, and despite his constant insistence that they needed to leave right now, she hadn’t moved from her game. When he finally lost his patience, pushing her hand off the controller so she’d lose, they had left.

Max hadn’t spoken to him. Merely slammed the passenger side door shut and glared out the window. Even when Billy had tried to get her to talk, even going so far as putting in the Bangles tape that he absolutely hated but kept in the car for her, she continued to glare out the window. It was a quiet car ride in that regard.

When they arrived home, Max didn’t wait for him before going into the house. Neil was waiting in the kitchen, beer balancing in his hand. Susan was setting the food on the table, a meal of mashed potatoes and pock chops. 

“Go wash up for dinner,” her mother instructed with a smile. 

Max nodded, moving towards the bathroom. She crossed paths with Billy who was watching his father carefully. 

“Not yet Billy,” Neil said, standing. “We need to talk.”

“Yes, sir.” Billy’s voice was hard, his face devoid of any expression. There was a stiffness to his shoulder. Susan placed her hand on Max’s shoulder, urging her down the hall. When her mother moved back to the kitchen, Max pressed against the hallway wall, out of sight. She could see into the kitchen, but they couldn’t catch sight of her.

Neil rose, setting his beer bottle onto the table. It only took a few steps before he stood in front of Billy. “Give me your keys.”

Billy hesitated. He dug through his pocket, handing over the key ring. Neil wrapped his hands around them, before shoving them into his back pocket. He leveled a firm glare onto his son. “Did I not tell you to be home with your sister by five thirty?”

Billy’s back went ridged. “Yes Sir.” 

Neil leaned forward, leveling his gaze onto his son. “And what time is it?”

“It’s almost six.”

“And why are you late?”

Billy’s head lowered. His shoulder’s slumped. Max was prepared for him to tell the truth. That it was her fault because she didn’t want to quit her game. Billy’s shoulder slumped further. “I was late getting Max.”

The house fell quiet. The only sound was Susan mixing together some gravy. That mixing ended and true silence touched the air.

The sound of fleshing hitting flesh rocked the home. Neil’s hand had cut through the air, slamming against Billy’s cheek. He managed to keep his feet planted, head thrown back to the side. His curled blond hair hung around his face. A thin line of glistening red blood trailed over his chin. Neil grabbed the lapels of Billy’s shirt, slamming him against the wall.

“And why were you late?”

Billy’s head hung limp. “I was with a friend. Lost track of time.”

“A friend?” Neil pressed Billy further into the wall. There was a thud as Neil gripped Billy’s chin, shoving his head back against the wall. “Another fag? You have some queer’s cock down your throat?”

“No. No Sir.” Billy hissed. His jaw tightened within his father’s grasp. Deep blue eyes narrowed. 

Susan was pouring glass fulls of lemonade, her gaze never landing on the scene before her. Max moved as Neil’s hand raised again. She grabbed the nearest door, opening and closing it loudly. Her sneakers clapped against the ground as she moved into the kitchen.

“Man, I am starving!” Max hollered. “Whatcha make mom?”

The scene in the kitchen had changed completely in the short time she’d looked away. Her mother was putting a spoon into the gravy. She smiled at Max as if nothing had happened. Neil was sitting back at the table, whipping his hands on a napkin and taking a drink from his beer. Billy was still pressed against the wall. His head was lowered. He whipped a hand over his jaw, removing the blood from his face. 

“Susan, darling,” Neil spoke, raising his bottle. “Could you get me another beer?”

“Yes, dear.” Susan smiled, taking the empty bottle. She moved to the fridge, pulling it open. “Billy, Max why don’t you sit down? Food will get cold.”

Dinner was a quiet ordeal. Neil and Susan asked how Max’s day went, thrilled when she told them about beating her high score. They didn’t say anything to Billy and he didn’t press himself into the conversation. The pork chops were bland and the mashed potatoes were chunky but Max tasted none of it. The forming bruise along Billy’s jaw – replacing the one that had just healed the day before – killed her appetite. 

When dinner ended, Billy washed his dish quickly before disappearing into his room. Max waited another few hours in her room, until she heard the tell tale sounds of her mother starting up a bath and Neil turning on some football game. Opening her door, she looked at the closed one belonging to Billy across the hall.

His room was quiet. He was always quiet when Neil was home. The moment he’d leave, Billy would blare Metallica so loud she could feel the base coursing through her bones. But when Neil was home, there was quiet behind those doors. 

Max crossed the hall, wrapping her knuckles against the hard wood. After a moment, Billy’s approval to enter was given. Max opened the door, slipping in and closing it behind her. Billy’s room was a mess as always. His dirty clothes piled out of the hamper, the closet door was hanging open. There was a pile of weights stacked in the corner. His boots were tossed to the side. The desk in the corner was piled with textbooks and notebooks. His radio was silent. The bookshelf beside the table was piled with torn and bent books and whatever random items he had collected. There was a red painted skateboard leaning against it. Max didn’t know the last time she’d seen him ride it – probably around the time he taught her.

“Whatcha need, Max?” 

Billy was perched on his bed, leaning against the headboard. His sock clad feet stretched out in front of him. He had switched into a bulky gray hoodie and sweatpants. The long and wild blond curls he sported were tied in a lose tail at the base of his neck. He held a book in his hand, his gaze never leaving it. The bruise on his jaw was more predominant. It was already starting to molt into a deep purple.

“State your business, Max.” Billy turned the page in his book. 

Max crossed the room, dragging out the desk chair. Her gaze drifted over the pile on the desk, taking note of the black sketch pad resting among it. There was a page partially sticking out, charcoal markings showing. She didn’t know he drew. There was apparently a lot she didn’t know. She turned her attention back to Billy, who still hadn’t looked up. “Why did you lie?” 

Billy turned the page on his book. “What the hell you talking about?”

“To Neil! I’m the reason we were late. Why did you tell him that it was your fault?” Max watched the way the bruise moved as Billy clinched his jaw. “You’ve done it before haven’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about?” Again, Billy just flipped the page.

Max huffed, standing up. She jumped onto the bed, leaning real close to him. “He’s done it before hasn’t he? Hit you, I mean.”

“Max,” Billy groaned. 

“Why don’t you tell anyone? You could tell Hop. He’ll help.”

“It’s not that simple. Let it go.”

“It’s not right. You don’t deserve this.”

There was a slight snarl to his voice, but it was nothing like it had been almost a month ago. He closed the book, setting it to the side. “Look, can we not have this conversation right now?”

Max almost left at that. She would have anytime before now. Turned tail and fled at his anger. But she wasn’t going to do that this time. She wasn’t going to leave him to his anger. Looking at him, it all finally hit her. The bruises and bandaged hand that didn’t come from his fight from Steve. The constant black eyes. The busted lip he had somehow gotten overnight when they had first meet. The four nights Billy had spent in the hospital after Neil had tracked him down at the pier… After Max had told him where he was… who he was with. 

Watching as Billy picked the book back up, turning away from her once more, Max lost it. The tears started in her gaze. She dug her hands into the knees of her jeans, biting back the saltiness on her lips. A hiccup bounced through her throat as the tears began to flow quickly. Arms went around her. Max breathed in the faded cologne smell as her face buried into the soft fabric.

“I’m sorry Max.” Billy whispered, running a hand through her hair. It was kind of awkward and Billy’s hand moved in a strange pattern like he wasn’t used to comforting anyone. He really wasn’t used to it.

The tears dried up, but Max didn’t pull away. For as bad as their relationship had gotten within the last year, there was still those good years between them. Curled up in his arms, Max was reminded of those years. Before the anger. The fights. The hospital trip. The move.

“Can I ask you something?” Max spoke slowly, afraid for the first time in a while. “You don’t have to answer, but I need to ask.”

“Go on, shitbird.”

Max smiled at the term. It was an insult spilled from his lips for so long, but now it sounded different. Like a term of endearment. “Back in Cali… when you went out to the beach… with Ryan…. And Neil called us from the hospital…”

She couldn’t continue. Billy didn’t need her to. He knew what she was asking. “Ya. He put me in there.”

Max drew away from him. She whipped her tears against the palm of her hand. “Is it because you and Ryan were dating?”

Billy drew back at that. He dropped his arms from around her. “Ya. We were. He caught us. It… He wasn’t happy.” 

Max threw herself back into him. She wrapped her arms around his torso, sighing against the soft fabric. “I’m sorry. For what happened back in Cali… and all the times I got you in trouble here.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Billy said. “I’m the one who should be sorry. I was angry. So angry about what happened and I blamed you. And that wasn’t right Max. Not at all.” 

They continued sitting there. The sounds from the TV continued in the distance. Max breathed deeply, getting control over her emotions. “Will told me about you helping him. And Steve says you’ve been over there helping him with his homework. You really are trying to be better, aren’t you?”

“Ya.” Billy answered slowly. “I’m trying Max.”

Max smiled at that. The first real smile they’ve shared since moving here. “Well you’re doing pretty good at it.”

Billy ruffled Max’s hair, pushing her over gently. “Thanks shitbird. Means a lot.” 

Max pushed herself off the bed. The clock on the wall was reading close to eleven. “I should get to bed. Night asshole.” 

“Night,” Billy replied. 

Max was at the door, before turning around. “I’m going to be on time when you pick me up. I’m not going to give him a reason to hit you again.”

Billy didn’t remind her that Neil never really needed a reason. They both understood that. 

O----O

Neil was yelling from the recliner, a beer in his hand, for him to answer the pounding on the front door. Keeping the irritation from his face and voice, Billy threw the door open. The teenage fist pounding heavily on the front door nearly collided with Billy’s face as he leaned down to glare at the boy. He deepened his glare, looking to scare the scrawny twit away.

“What the fuck you want, Wheeler?” Billy leaned his weight against the door frame. He crossed his arms over his chest. Despite his resolution to be less of an asshole, that wasn’t going to extent to them being unnecessary nuisances on his front porch, risking the irritation of his father. “You here for Max?”

Wheeler – Mike – wrinkled his nose at him in an all too familiar teenage fashion. “No. I’m here for you.”

That took Billy back. He stepped onto the porch, pulling the front door near closed behind him. “What do you want? I’m not buying you kids beer or any of that shit.”

“I don’t want beer.” God, that nasally voice was going to get the kid punch one day. “I need a favor. I need a ride to the mall.”

“You rode that bike all the way over here, why can’t you take to the mall?”

“It’s the next town over. And it’s gonna rain.”

“And this is my problem how….? Ask Harrington or your sister.”

Mike huffed. A light rain began to pick up behind him. “Nancy is off with Jonathon on a date and Steve...Steve’s not much help on this.”

A cringe graced Mike’s face. He looked away, biting his lower lip.

Billy grinned, leaning forward slightly. “Spit it out you little shit...”

“I need a gift for my girlfriend!” Mike growled through his teeth. He kept his gaze off towards the street. “It’s… we’ve been together for a few months and I wanna get her something to show her how much I love her and I don’t know what to get her.”

Billy chuckled softly. “And you came to me of all people?”

Mike steered his glare to face the older teen. “Max says you go out with a lot of girls so you know what your doing. And she says your trying to not be such an asshole and… you helped Will and Dustin says your decent and Steve says you guys are friends and I just… fuck it. Never mind.”

He started to walk off, but Billy spun him back around. “Calm your tits kid.”

The shitfaced frown left Mike’s face at that. His eyes brightened and he smiled at Billy. “You’ll take me?”

Billy returned that hopeful smile with a bitter frown. “Even if I wanted to kid, I couldn’t drive you.”

“You’re cars right there!”

“And my keys are currently in my dad’s pocket. Unless Max is going along, I don’t get those keys.”

Mike glared at the living room window. Neil’s head could be seen in the corner, reclined in a drunken sleep. “That’s bullshit. We’ll just ask Max to come with.”

“Already ready.” Max slide through the front door, closing it softly behind her. She shoved the set of keys in Billy’s hand, offering that shit eating grin of hers. “Neil just passed out and I told mom we needed to get a friend of ours a birthday gift. She gave me some money for us to grab some food while we’re there.”

Billy looked down at the keys in his hand before looking back at the pair of teens. They were smiling widely at him. Billy rolled his eyes. “Is this how you got Steve to drive you shits around?”

“That was all Dustin,” Mike said. “I think he just kidnapped him one day.”

Billy merely shook his head, motioning for the kids to get it. They pilled in, flipping through his set of tapes before Billy even got the keys in the ignition. They popped one in, the bottom of the car rocking with the drums. Billy pushed the frustration down as Max and Mike off key shrilled along to the lyrics. He didn’t understand how easily these kids stopped being so terrified of him. It was something he told himself he would need to rectify before he became the same pushover Harrington had become.

Of course, his attempt to regain some of that edge was lost when he ended up paying for the ugliest skirt he had even seen (a bowling aisle carpet looked less drug induced) that both Mike and Max swore that El would love, but could not afford between them. 

Mike had hugged him when he threw the twenty on the counter. There it was. His reputation of a bitter, unapproachable asshole was gone. 

As two teenagers dragged him towards the pizza shop, arguing over rather or not to have pineapple on their pizza, Billy found that he didn’t really mind the change. The little shits crowded around him, Max stealing away at his french fries. He kept a chuckle on his lips, shoving a large bite of burger into his mouth.

O----O

“I wanna thank you.” Steve said, looking at Billy fully. “For all the help with homework and stuff. I’d probably fail if it weren’t for you.”

Billy took a swig from the beer, hiding his face. “I’m sure you’d have been fine on your own.”

Steve slide the math book into his bag. His English grade had gone up since Billy started tutoring him, he had begged for him to help him with math as well. Turned out Billy was even better with numbers than words. Steve had hit the jackpot with this one. 

They were propped on the couch in his living room together. The usual pepperoni pizza was completely gone, as was the chips. They’d had a few beers between them. A rerun of Cheers played low in the background. Steve smiled at Billy. “Ya. No. I’ve accepted that I’m a dumb-ass. I’m just glad I’m really good friends with a nerd.”

“Good friends?” Billy cocked a brow at him, as he always did. “That’s what we are.”

“Ya. We didn’t start off right, but I’m glad we’re friends. It’s so much easier than what we were doing before that.”

“Ya, I guess so.”

Steve set his beer down on the coffee table. He leaned forward, watching Billy carefully. “Hey Billy… I don’t know If I’m reading this wrong… I’m pretty bad at reading after all...” 

Billy leaned in slightly, not realizing he was doing so. “What’s up?”

Steve opened his mouth to speak. After finding no words on his lips, he decided to make the move instead. He tipped forward, slamming his lips’ against Billy’s. They were frozen in place, lips locked together but neither moving. 

After another moment, Billy wrapped his hands around Steve’s collar and deepened the kiss. He opened his lips, moving around Steve’s as the two melted into each other. Steve moved, all but climbing into Billy’s lap, and running his hand his hands through Billy’s hair and over his cheeks. Billy wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist, drawing him closer. His lips moved along Steve’s jaw line, trailing soft kisses. A moan escaped from Steve’s throat. 

As quickly as it started, Billy snapped back into himself. He stood up, shoving Steve off him roughly. Once on his feet, he tried to back up but the back of his knees hit the coffee table. He ran his hands through his blond curls. “No. No. I can’t…. I can’t do this. Not again.”

“Billy?” Steve was rubbing his jaw. There was a puddle of blood forming on his lower lip. Billy didn’t even realize he had hit Steve until that moment. 

“I’m sorry.” Billy groaned. He shoved passed Steve, throwing open the front door. It was starting to rain as he flung himself into the driver’s seat of his car. Glancing up, he caught Steve standing in the doorway, watching him. Turning away, Billy pealed out of the drive, heading off into the evening. 

O----O

The rain was now pouring in sheets as he speed through the wet streets, not sure were he was going but knowing he needed away from Steve’s. It was always raining in this god damn town. His tires slide every so often but he did nothing to slow his speed. His knuckles began to burn as he ground his fingers into the leather cover. The rain outside plummeted from the sky in a way the tears he was fighting back could never.

Rounding the corner, nearly clipping the curb as he did so, Billy slammed his brakes at the sight before him. Dark red jacket pulled up around his ears, Lucas Sinclair was trudging through the on slaughter of rain. The kid didn’t notice the car at the end of the street behind him.

Billy grab his gear shift, ready to put it into reverse. He stopped as thunder rocked the world around him. Sinclair trudged forward, stumbling slightly at the harsh rain. A heavy sigh trailed from Billy’s lips as he put the car back in drive. He inched forward, doing his best not to scare the child any more than he already did. The kid stopped as Billy pulled up beside him. He rolled the window down, grimacing at the cold rain that seeped into his car.

“Get in, Sinclair.” 

The kid had the nerve to sneer at him. He pulled his jacket closer, narrowing his eyes. “I’ll walk, thanks.”

He started to walk back down the road. Grinding his fingers into the bridge of his nose, Billy drove slowly beside him. “Look kid, this is a pretty bad storm. You’ll catch your death if you stay out in it.”

Sinclair didn’t turn to look at him, “why do you care?”

“I don’t, you little shit. But you’re Max’s friend and she’ll be pissed if you died out here.” Billy stopped the car as Sinclair stopped walking. “So get in the fucking car so I can take you home.”

The teen looked to think on it. Thunder rattled a nearby home window. Lightening brightened the darken sky. The rain fell harder. Sinclair sighed, moving to climb into the passenger seat. Billy unlocked it, and rolled up his drivers side window. They sat in silence, the boy shivering from the cold. Billy turned the heat up. After a moment of thought, he reached behind him dragging out a faded plaid button up. “Here. Take your coat off, this is dry.”

Lucas watched him wearily, holding the shirt. After coming to terms with whatever he needed to come to terms with, he slide off his jacket and wrapped the oversize shirt around him. “Why did you pick me up? Really? Is this where you drive me to the woods and kill me?”

Billy chuckled. He gave a brief chuckle, before turning back onto the road. “Where you live, kid?”

“Why do you need to know.”

God, these little shits were annoying. He would never understand why Steve willingly touted them about. His grip on the steering wheel tightened at the remembrance of Steve. Of those soft lips pressed against his, and those surprisingly strong hands running over his arms. He turned his thoughts away. He couldn’t do this. Not right now. He gaze shifted towards the shivering child beside him and put his full focus onto dealing with this. “I need to know where to drop you off.”

Lucas cast yet another suspicious glance. “Walnut street. Its a left by Belladonna's Bookstore. Number 657.”

Billy nodded. “I know the area.”

They sat in silence. The only sound between them was the pelting rain and the occasional clatter of Lucas’ teeth. In that silence, Billy took a deep breath. “I wanna apologize Lucas.”

That stopped the kid’s clattering teeth. He leaned into the door, watching the older teen. Billy took another breath, loosening his grip on the wheel.

“That night at the Byers. When I… I put my hands on you. There was no cause for that. No excuse I can make that would ever make right what I did. And there is nothing I can do that will make what I did right. But never the less, I want to apologize. And assure you, I will never put my hands on you again.”

Lucas withdrew from off the passenger’s side door. He fiddled with the plaid button up. “Why did you do it? Why target me? Is it ‘cause I’m black.”

Billy kept his focus on the road, slowing down when they came behind a green Sudan rolling slowly. “It was. But not for the reason you might think.”

“So tell me the reason.”

The Sudan took a right at the stop sign, clearing the road ahead. Billy kept a slow speed after crossing the intersection. It was probably the first time he’d done the speed limit since coming to this town. “Has Max said anything about my father?”

“Said he’s a dick,” Lucas answered.

“That’s one way to put it. By dad is every bit of hatred you could have rolled into one drunken shit bag. He’s misogynistic. Racist. Homop-homophobic. Anything that doesn’t fit the perfect image he wants to present his family to be, was not allowed. We moved here, because it was such a small, off the road town. Mainly white population. He wanted his kids to be involved with the ‘right’ kind of crowd.”

“The white kind.” Lucas understood it quick. 

“Ya.” Another stop sign passed by them, Billy taking a right this time at it. The neighborhood they drove through was lit brightly through the rain. “When I saw you watching Max, giving her a stare I knew all too well… I knew I needed to put a stop to it. I couldn’t take the risk of Neil finding out that I let his precious step-daughter run around with a black boy. No matter how much I hated that little shit, I couldn’t allow her to be hurt. Not like that. I should have just said something to either of you. I shouldn’t have assaulted you over it. You’re a kid. Its not your fault my dad's a psychotic racist. And I am sorry for that. For putting my hands on you.”

“Would he really be that upset at us just being friends?”

Billy came upon the bookstore. He pulled into the parking lot. Putting it into park, he returned both his hands to the steering wheel. His gaze was forward, watching a young women browsing through the stores large window. “I’m going to tell you something, something I really don’t want to tell you. You can take it how you will, I just ask you listen.”

Lucas turned in his seat. He was watching Billy fully. “I’m listening.”

Billy’s eyes clinched tightly. “There was a boy, back in California. His name was Ryan. He was a year older than me. He loved The Ramones, and would blare it no matter how much I protested. He loved to surf and spent every moment he could at the beach. He wasn’t very good with school, but still loved to read. Had a knack for getting in trouble. For getting us in trouble. He taught me how to skate. How to play cards. How to cheat at cards. He taught me how to kiss.”

Billy slowly opened his eyes, but didn’t turn his gaze from in front of them. “I loved him. I loved that he didn’t care I was a piece of shit. Didn’t care when I’d pick fights because I was angry with myself and didn’t know any other outlet. Always patched me back up, telling me I was better than I thought I was. That I didn’t deserve when my father hit me. That whatever he screamed while doing it, wasn’t true. That I wasn’t the faggot piece of trash my father was beating into my head.”

Lucas pulled the shirt closer around him. The slight shake to his shoulder was no longer due to the cold.

“My dad and Susan went out with some friends and Max had summer camp that morning so I went down to the beach to meet Ryan. Told Max where I was and that I’d be back when she got home to make sure she got something to eat. I lost track of time. There was a local band playing at the beach and Ryan had some pocket money so we grabbed hot dogs and some funnel cake and hid underneath the pier. I remember siting there, the band playing on the pier above us. They were shitty. Some high school group that barely knew how to play. But it was a good time. I was happy.”

Thunder rocked so hard that the frame of the car shivered. Billy let go of the steer wheel, grimacing at the indent his fingers had made. He rested his hands on it again. “We weren’t doing anything. Just sitting under the pier, sharing a funnel cake and resting my head against his shoulder. That was how my father found us. Everything happened so quickly after that. Him pulling me away from Ryan. Screaming about the fag that was corrupting his son. Ryan tried to step between but dad threatened to tell his parents what he had seen. His dad was a pastor at the local church and it would ruin him to find his son was some queer.

“He dragged me back to his car. And we didn’t head home. He took me to a junk yard one of his friends owned. He must have told him what a fucking degenerate his son was because the guy let us drive to the back of the lot. Where no one could see.” 

The women in the shop exited, running through the rain to climb in her car. Billy watched her, letting the distraction pull him from the hallow pit resting in his throat.

“I woke up, two days later in the hospital. My arm was broken at the elbow. Three ribs broken. My eyes were so swollen I could barely see. My nose was broke. My jaw was broken. Thirty two stitches were needed to stop the bleeding. My dad told them he found me like that. A bad kid he said. Always picking fights. Finally caught up. We moved here the day after the hospital released me back into my father’s loving care.”

Billy looked at Lucas, trying to gag the look on the boy’s face. He looked uncomfortable, swallowing slowly. “My father put me in the hospital on the sheer suspicion that I was queer. What do you think he’d do if he found his step-daughter holding hands with the local black kid?”

Lucas didn’t respond. He righted himself in his chair, lowering his gaze to his lap. White teeth bit into dark lips. The shaking in his shoulder’s was gone. The boy sat ridged. Billy sighed, pulling the car into drive. The rain had let up enough for Billy to read the address numbers on the mailboxes. It was two blocks down that he pulled into the drive of a decent sized home. A purple van was parked next to him. 

“Home sweet home, Kid.” Billy said. He waited for Lucas to get out. The kid didn’t do that though. Just sat there, fiddling with the buttons on the shirt and keeping his gaze lowered. 

“Is she safe?” Lucas looked up at him. His eyes wavered as he matched the stare. “Max. Is she safe in that house.”

“Neil’s never hit her. She’s the daughter he’s always wanted. As long as she continues to be daddy’s innocent little girl in his eyes, she’ll be fine.”

“Are you safe?”

Billy chuckled at that. “I’m fine kid. I’ve made it this far, don’t worry your little head over me.”

Lucas didn’t seem convinced by that reassurance. “If he does hurt her, would you protect her?”

A month ago, if Billy had been given that situation, he might have left Max to it. To take the beating for once so he didn’t have to. Now though… the thought of those eyes filled with tears, those freckles dotted with bruises, her hair hair jagged from being dragged by it… “Ya. Max is a bitch and she annoys the hell out of me, but at the end of the day… that little shit is my little sister and I’m not letting anyone put their hands on her.” 

Lucas brought his hand forward, offering it for a shake. “I forgive you.”

Billy chuckled, finding the knot at the base of his throat finally dissolving. He shook the kids hand. “Thanks Sinclair.”

They broke apart, Lucas dropping the plaid shirt back into the seat behind him. He grabbed his jacket, draping it over his shoulders. “I’m going to protect her too. With everything I have.”

Billy really didn’t want to crush the teenage boy’s aspirations. He didn’t think those twig arms could keep him long in a fight. He watched the kid climb from the car, running quickly across the yard to escape the rain. He rapped his knuckles against the door and after a few second of waiting, a middle aged man opened the door. He ushered Lucas in, taking the rain soaked jacket. Billy kept his eyes on the man, nodding back when Mr. Sinclair offered a quick wave. When the door shut, Billy back out the driveway. 

He idled at the edge of the drive. After a moment more of hesitation, Billy pulled onto the road and started to drive.

O---o

It was still raining when Billy slammed his fist repeatedly against the wooden door. It was always raining here. Wrapping his knuckles several more times, he took a step back when the door was pulled open. Steve stood there, wearing a pair of dark green sweats and some band tee Billy didn’t know. His hair was a mess. There was a frown on his lips. There was a light bruise on his jaw.

“I’m sorry.” Billy blurted out before the door could be shut in his face. “I was an idiot. An asshole. I was scared. And I hit you because that’s all I know. It’s easier to start swinging than to deal with the fact that I’m queer and I have spent so long pretending I’m not. Easier than admitting that I like you. That I liked when you kissed me. That I have liked you for along time. That I’ve wanted nothing more than to press you against a wall and run my tongue down your chest.

“I’m a coward Steve. A fucked up mess. And it’s bullshit, you know. That I can’t even kiss back the guy I like without my father’s slurs running through my head. And you deserve better than that. Better than my bullshit.”

Steve reached forward, dragging him into the house out of the pouring rain. “You’re not bullshit, Billy. You’ve got some stuff to work through, I’ll give you that, but you’re not bullshit. You’re not whatever shit your father told you you were. You’re Billy Hargrove. Keg King of Hawkins. Closeted nerd. Local bad-ass and according to the kids, a pretty decent babysitter. And I like you. I like every part of you.” 

A chuckle passed Billy’s lips. A weight fell off his shoulder. He raised his eyes, locking onto the soft brown staring back at him. “If I kissed you right now, would you let me?”

“You never have to ask,” Steve replied. He pressed his lips against Billy’s and it felt right. It all felt right. The rain began to soften outside as they stood there, lips moving against one another. That voice in the back of his mind, warning of the danger that could arise from this was still there. He ignored it, choosing instead to focus on the quiet whispered of affection Steve was breathing against his skin.


End file.
